


The Devil Inside

by Derora, Nemoinis



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 02:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derora/pseuds/Derora, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemoinis/pseuds/Nemoinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far would Blair go to save Jim's life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: This story was written in 2001 and originally published in "Dance with the Devil" from Infinity Press, a multimedia zine from Zoe Rayne where slash boys are involved with, well, the Devil. Thanks to Stef for editing, TreeWishes for beta-reading and final editing, and Zoe for the quality zine production. NB: Portions of this story could be construed as non-con, but are not intended to be.

The Devil Inside  
by Derora and Nemoinis

 

The private room at Cascade General Hospital was cool and dim. There was little need for heat or light. The occupant was beyond caring about the niceties of his surroundings. 

The hospital bed held one of Cascade's finest, a police officer shot in the line of duty. His injuries were massive, beyond the capabilities of even the best doctors to repair. He was dying. Everyone in the room knew, and was trying to make peace with that fact. The machines continued their grim work, keeping the body going for just a few more hours. 

In spite of Jim Ellison's enhanced hearing, the voices of his friends near the door did not penetrate his damaged brain. 

"God, I can't stand to see him this way." 

"I know. Sandburg will be here in the morning." 

"Where is he?" 

"At a conference in Atlanta. He's on his way. He'll need to...say goodbye." 

"This'll kill him." 

A whisper of despair: "I know." 

~ ** ~

Simon Banks sat in his office at the Cascade police station, staring at the computer and trying desperately to pull his thoughts together. He did not want to write this e-mail. He never wanted to have to write this e-mail. Reluctantly, he pulled the keyboard toward him and started typing. 

Fri 04/14/2001 8:34PM  
FROM: sbanks@pd.cascade.wa.gov  
TO: god@heaven.com  
SUBJECT: Jim Ellison 

My closest friend, Jim Ellison, will soon be on his way to you. I'm sorry you need to take him home so soon, but I know he'll be in good hands. The machines will be turned off tomorrow. Keep an eye on him, will you? He's very special. 

Banks 

~ ** ~

At 3:47 a.m., the hospital corridors were empty and silent. No one noticed the man entering Jim Ellison's room, no one heard the quiet snick of the door lock, and thanks to a wave of the man's hand across the machinery beside the bed, no one would notice any changes in the patient's artificially-maintained heart rate or breathing. 

The visitor stood silently at the end of the bed, cataloging the detective's injuries. He let out a quiet, sorrowful sigh at his condition. Coming to the head of the bed, he reached and gently stroked the soft bristle of Jim's hair. "You've really done it this time, haven't you, James?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the small room. Another sigh and he stepped back, raising his hands to his shirt buttons. 

Shedding his clothing efficiently, he started to talk. Low and soothing, the cadence and tone changing slightly every few sentences, the voice never stopped. Words in a language forbidden and long forgotten filled the room, hanging in the air, gathering above the body on the bed. Like a storm cloud it roiled and raged until one final word left his mouth like a crack of lightning: "Sentinel!" 

Jim arched and began to choke, trying to breathe but hampered by the tube in his throat. It was pulled out quickly and the injured man sucked in air as if he had been drowning. The nude figure beside the bed seemed pleased, but not quite satisfied. Another few words and Jim's lids flickered briefly, then went still. 

A not-so-quiet curse flared. The visitor pulled down the sheets that covered the lax, unresponsive body. The hospital gown was red-wet in places, plainly telling him that the nurses had given up even the most basic care. As he pushed the material up, the bloody bandages covering the majority of Jim's body confirmed it. He hadn't expected this kind of damage. No wonder Jim hadn't awakened. It was clear that he had lived far longer than anyone expected. He hoped it wasn't too late. 

Reaching out, he placed his hand on the largest gauze-covered spot on Jim's belly. Chanting low again, this time harsh and grating, he pushed. Jim whimpered at the firm pressure. 

"Come on, James. Stay with me. Fight, damn it! I need you to fight to stay here. Stay here with me!" 

He could feel Jim's skin heating under his touch, the blood rising and warming at his command. He moved his hands slowly over Jim's abdomen, removing bandages and watching dispassionately as the gaping wounds closed behind his fingers, and the muscles and bones knitted underneath his palms. 

"That's it, James. Open your eyes now. Do it for me. It's safe now, James. There won't be any more pain." 

He watched carefully as Jim's eyes flickered, then opened in response to the power in his voice. But there was no recognition in the wounded man's eyes, no sign of knowing where he was and what was happening to him. 

"Are you with me, James? Can you feel this?" He gave the smooth skin under his hand a vicious pinch, drawing blood with his nails. No response. "Do you know where you are?" 

"Bbblllrrrr." 

"That's right, James. You remember Blair. You want to be with Blair, don't you?" 

"Blrrr." 

"Then you have to do what I say. Can you do that?" There was no response as Jim's eyes closed again. He tried another tactic. "Your Guide is in danger, Sentinel. Help him!" This time a shudder racked Jim's body and his fingers twitched convulsively. Breath hitching, part of Jim struggled to wake, to rise and protect his guide. His frustration manifested itself in tears, tracking slowly down his temple into his hair. 

The hot hands returned to his tortured body, soothing and transferring energy into the lax limbs. His healer bent down and licked the tears from his face, murmuring soft words of encouragement and entreaty. He scattered kisses over Jim's face, then latched his mouth to the detective's, as if trying to pour his essence into Jim with one move. Still, Jim's eyes remained closed. 

The man stepped back from the bed and pondered the situation. He felt that Jim was coming around, but he needed to move things along before it was too late. His eyes wandered over the tubes and needles still attached to Jim's body. Deciding on a plan of action, he gently pulled the catheter out of Jim's penis, tossing it the floor. Taking the limp organ in both hands, he bent and flicked his tongue against the irritated slit. Soft tonguing up and down the shaft finally caused the organ to stir. Jim moaned softly, Blair's name still almost unrecognizable. His tormentor/lover smiled, and took the now erect cock into his mouth. Rolling his tongue about the head, he sucked gently, setting a leisurely pace. Twitching hips under his palms told him that Jim could feel it. He reached down to pull on his own cock as he increased the suction of his mouth, drawing Jim's penis further and further into his throat until it was at full hardness. 

He pulled back, not wanting Jim to come just yet. He noted Jim's soft moan with satisfaction, taking it as a sign that he was regaining some higher levels of consciousness. Moving up to the head of the bed, he crooned softly to its occupant. 

"Open up, James," he whispered, holding his hard cock and rubbing the wet head against Jim's closed lips. "I need you to do this for me." Pushing his hips forward, Jim's lips parted slightly and he slid between them. "That's right," he moaned in pleasure, "nice and easy." 

Jim's mouth was unresponsive, but it was warm and moist and the man used it. Sliding back and forth, he let the sensitive head of his dick catch of the ridge of Jim's lip before thrusting back in. In his mind, he was picturing the man beneath him holding him down as he fucked him. His imagination relished what it would be like to find those strong fingers of Jim's wrapped around his waist, keeping him captive as his dick thrust harder and harder into his body. Reaching behind him, the man slid a finger down the moist crease of his ass, until the tip teased his hole. Lost in the fantasy, he circled it lightly until he felt his balls draw up and his back arched. Thrusting his finger into his ass, he let out a choked shout and came, shooting himself down Jim's throat. 

Fighting against the weakness in his knees, he leaned over Jim and saw that his cum was flowing slowly out of Jim's open mouth. He quickly moved to hold it shut, stroking Jim's throat as he did. "Come on James, swallow." He watched Jim struggle to obey, half choking as he did. "Drink it down, James. Take it inside you. Take me inside you." 

As Jim swallowed, he leaned close, kissing along the edge of Jim's jaw and whispering intently. He kept up a steady stream of quiet words as he reached down and began stroking Jim's cock, still hard and waiting for him. He could see that Jim was not really up to understanding him, but he was confident that his meaning was getting through as his voice caressed Jim as much as his hand did. When his fingers brushed Jim's testicles and felt them tighten, he quickly moved down to take Jim in his mouth, sucking hard and swallowing frantically as Jim came hard and fast. He released Jim's cock with a soft kiss, and licked the spent flesh clean. "Yes," he murmured, "deep inside me." 

Straightening, he pulled the hospital gown down over the exhausted man, and covered him with the light blanket. Caressing his head, he gave him one last kiss. "Sleep now, James. Sleep." 

~ ** ~

It was only 6:15 in the morning, but Simon hadn't been able to sleep. He dressed dispiritedly, deciding he would stop by the hospital before he went to the office. He had to pick Sandburg up at the airport at 8:30, then this nightmare would be over -- just not for the better. 

Walking down the hospital corridor, he hesitated at the door to Jim's room when he heard the excited babble of voices from within. Frowning in confusion, he pushed open the door and came to an abrupt halt. 

What he saw shocked him to the core. Jim was lying in the bed, as he was when he'd been with him last night, but now he was partially reclined instead of lying flat, and his eyes were open. The respirator and heart monitor were unhooked, standing in silent vigil instead of maintaining their beeping death watch. The doctors and nurses were anything but silent, talking among themselves in the corner of the room in hushed, urgent tones. And of all things, Blair Sandburg was sitting on the edge of the bed, feeding Jim his breakfast of oatmeal. 

"What in heaven's name is going on here?" he asked, shock making his voice quiver slightly. 

"Oh, hey Simon," Blair answered. "Isn't Jim doing great? You had me worried there for a while!" 

"Sandburg, what happened? And how did you get here?" 

"I got an earlier flight through Denver. And what happened? I think you scared me for nothing. When I got here, Jim was awake and asking the doctors when he could go home. He's gonna be fine, Simon. Why did you tell me he was so bad off?" 

"Well," Simon answered weakly, "he was. I thought...." He looked at the medical personnel over in the corner, hoping one of them could enlighten him a bit. But they were deep in conversation, bits of which floated over to him as he watched Sandburg return to coaxing oatmeal into his partner. 

"...almost completely back to normal. Hell if I know how."

"He's obviously fine, now, Simon." Blair wiped a stray morsel of oatmeal off Jim's chin, then nudged the spoon against his lips again. "Open up, James," he whispered, "I need you to do this for me." Pushing the spoon forward, Jim's lips parted slightly and he slid the warm cereal between them. "That's right," he said, "nice and easy." 

Jim swallowed, a confused look on his face. "What did you say, Chief?" 

"...just can't be! His brain activity was non-existent."

Blair paused with the spoon in midair, not quite sure what Jim was asking. "Just that you have to eat to regain your strength, Jim. You want to come home soon, don't you buddy?" 

"...massive internal hemorrhaging just a few hours ago."

"Sandburg," Banks interrupted, "Jim was clinically dead! He won't be leaving here any time soon until we find out what happened." 

"No!" The vehemence in Blair's voice took both Simon and Jim by surprise. "He's fine, can't you see that? He needs to be home with me! I can take care of him." He glared at Simon as if to dispute his authority to protect Jim. 

"Look at the EKG, then. His heart rate is back to normal."

"Okay, Sandburg, take it easy." Simon took off his glasses, and dragged his hand across his face in weary frustration. "I don't know what is happening here, but somehow, Jim is recovering from three serious gunshots wounds and major internal damage. I don't know why he's better, though." 

"Maybe more tests would tell us..."

"Does it really matter, Simon?" Blair asked. He put the spoon down and ran his hand over Jim's arm, reassuring himself that his Sentinel was alive and whole. "He's going to be just fine, and that's the important thing." Blair moved his hand over Jim's forehead, as if to soothe away the last of the injuries. "You're going to be fine." 

"Nurse, let's get a CBC, Chem 7..."

Jim's groan startled both of his friends. "What is it, Jim?" Blair asked worriedly. 

"Tests, Sandburg. They want to run tests." 

Blair chuckled, and patted Jim's hand in commiseration. "They're doctors, Jim. To them, there's no such thing as an unexplained miracle." 

Jim leaned back on his pillow with a sigh. "Guess so, Chief." 

Simon wasn't quite so accepting of Blair's explanation. 'Unexplained miracle, huh?' he thought. 'No one told me....' 

~ ** ~

Blair tossed his keys in the general direction of the basket and swung the door of the loft shut behind him. Jim was coming home from the hospital tomorrow, and he had lots to do before then, not the least of which was a major clean-up. But first things first. 

He pulled his laptop out of his backpack and set it up on the kitchen table, pressing the power button and hooking up the phone line. As it booted up, Blair hummed softly and fiddled with the pointer, starting the connection to his ISP as soon as it came up. 

Tue 04/18/2001 5:15PM  
FROM: bjsandburg@cascade.net  
TO: satan@hell.com  
SUBJECT: Progress Report 

We got Ellison. 

bjs


End file.
